Love & Adversity
by sjanes
Summary: Tragedy falls on our hearts when we least expect it, but then, so does love. When tragedy breaks the heart, however, is love enough to mend the shattered pieces? AU, AH. Bella/Edward at beginning, some Bella/Jake, but ultimately this is Bella/Carlisle.
1. This Is Home

**A new story, what? Yes, I'm insane for taking on another fic right now, but that's alright – I don't mind a little crazy. So, yeah... new fic. Randomly got the idea in the middle of the night from a movie called Love Comes Softly with Katherine Heigl. The fic will have similarities to the film, but for the most part the two will be drastically different, so don't go watch the movie and think that's what you're gonna get here. **

**For those of you who are reading my other fic, Feels Like Home, don't worry – I will continue writing for that fic as well. I just had to get this new one out there though... I was too excited to keep it locked away. I hope you guys will be just as excited about it as I am... I hope. :) **

**The lovely SM is the queen of the castle, and alas I am just a mere joker using her kingdom as a means to entertain. If I strutted up to the throne and masqueraded as the queen I'd get myself banned. So I'm not even trying lay claim to anything here. **

**Now, go forth and read! :D Enjoy.**

**Song rec: This is Home by Switchfoot **

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"_A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams_."

– **Dr. William A Ward**

"Edwaarrrdd," I whine. My legs bounce in anticipation and I have to sit on my hands to keep myself restrained. I'm losing patience with each passing minute however – I know we've got to be close by now – and I try to slip my right hand up to my face without him seeing.

"Hey!" _Damn it. _Busted_._ "No peeking Isabella Marie Masen!"

"Oh come on baby, I've had this thing on for over an hour." I tug at the offending blindfold as I speak.

Edward slaps my hand away before I can pull it down. "Bella, love, it's hardly been 45 minutes. We're almost there. Please, just keep it on." He's lucky I'm hopelessly in love with him; otherwise I might have put up more of a fight.

The moment our plane had touched down in Port Angeles Edward had insisted I wear the bandana around my eyes. I knew the name of the area we were driving to from the airport– Forks, Washington – but only Edward had seen the town and our new home himself when he had flown here a couple of months ago to make the purchase. He wanted it all to be a surprise.

We were making a big change – moving to this little, obscure logging town from the bustling city of New York, but we needed it. Edward was a writer and I was a painter, and we were both starting to lose ourselves in that crazy place. Don't get me wrong, I loved New York, but we just needed a change of scenery, somewhere we could get inspired again. There was also the fact that we were worn out from having just dealt with the loss of Edward's father. His mother had passed away before Edward and I ever met, as had both of my parents, but his father had become very ill about two years ago. We spent so much of our time and money taking care of him, but there's only so much money can do before mother nature takes her course. So, with what little money Edward had left from his inheritance, which still wasn't little by far – Edward Sr. had been a wealthy man – we packed up and headed out.

"Okay."

"Okay what?" I ask confused. I was lost in the memories.

"Okay we're here."

"We're here?" My voice rises in excitement. "We're here! Oh my god, we're here!" I bounce up and down in the seat like a child barely able to contain their excitement and about to pee their pants. I'm so excited, in fact, that I forget to remove the blindfold before I make an attempt to open the car door.

"Bella! Bella, will you wait a second?" I hear Edward get out of the car and the next thing I know, my door is being opened and two strong arms are pulling me up by the waist. "Welcome to your new home, love," Edward whispers in my ear as he stands behind me and unties the blindfold.

So many things invade my senses the moment the blindfold falls from my eyes. Crisp mountain air drowns out any remaining stale city air left in my lungs, luscious greens and rich browns take the place of stodgy grays and monotonous blacks, and in the middle of it all stands a perfect two-story cottage home, not some over priced two-floor loft.

"Edward I –" I'm at a loss for words. It's better than anything I imagined. "It's beautiful. It's perfect."

"You're perfect," Edward murmurs. He quickly spins me around and crashes his lips to mine. The moment is perfect and I melt into his arms.

_This is home._

**~L&A~**

"What time do you think you'll be home?" _Home. _I'm still getting used to calling Forks home, but it has been for almost 3 weeks now, and I'm loving it.

"Not sure. I really need to find a job. We can't live off of my inheritance forever." Edward walks past me to the front door and bends over to slip on his shoes. _God, I love his ass. It's a damn fine ass._

"Well, hurry home," I say with a smile as he turns and catches me ogling his… assets.

"Sure will," he smiles back and then disappears out the door. I hear the car engine roar to life not a minute later and then quickly fade as he drives off.

My smile too, quickly fades.

It's not that I expect a kiss every time he leaves, but it was just something he always did, until now – until the past several days. I could tell something was bothering him, but as we were still getting settled into our new home, I figured I'd give it another week or two before addressing him about it. I thought maybe he was just a bit homesick for New York or was missing his dad. The odd thing, however, was that he seemed to be the most unusual when we discussed our money situation and him getting a job. I kept telling him that we had plenty of money to hold us over until we were completely settled. I wanted to spend some free time together in our new home before he went off looking for a job, but he kept insisting that he go out every day to job hunt.

It wasn't as if I was some freeloader, or gold digging wife, but being an artist himself as a writer, Edward knew it was important for me to focus on my art before I went out looking for a job. I was only 24, still fairly fresh out of college, but he was 28 and was already published. There wasn't a lot of money earned from his first book, but he had his inheritance. However, he still insisted on getting a part-time job for a little extra income and whenever I argued and said we didn't need it, he got upset. I just wanted to be with him, to spend time with him. We married just before Edward's father passed away, so we hadn't had much alone time to ourselves since the wedding. We were always taking care of his father, which of course, I didn't mind, but now I wanted to savor as much alone time as possible.

I sigh with longing as I finally turn away from the door and hope that whatever it is that is bothering him doesn't last much longer. We were still intimate, but I felt a distance between us since we had moved to Forks. Loving it or not, I was still hoping we made the right choice.

I busy myself throughout the morning with unpacking the last of our things. My studio, also Edward's study, is the final room to be unpacked. We wanted to try and get to know the town before jumping back into our work. Though, his desk and laptop were the first things to get set up – he said it was just because he needed to stay in touch with his editor and publisher, but I had a feeling he had been sneaking into the room at night to do some writing. I didn't really mind though, as I was just as eager to get back to painting.

I stroke the bristles of my brushes – some are soft, some are coarse – as I place them in a jar on the stand next to my easel, which faces towards a back window that looks over the trees and onto the mountains in the distance. It's so majestic, so humbling, and I get lost in the immensity of it all as I stare out the window. It seems as though I'm standing there for hours when a knock at the front doors startles me and brings me back down to the real word. I get lost like that all too easily sometimes – the quirks of being an artist.

In my haste to get down the stairs – I'm hurrying because I'm not sure exactly how long the knocking has actually been going on – I nearly trip on the bottom step and stumble all the way to the door. I grab hold of the knob to steady myself and fling the door open quickly. I would never have done that in New York without looking first. It's nice living in a small town and not having to worry about tragedy and death looming around the corner every second in the form of a mugger, or a murderer, or a cabby hell bent on breaking some sort of time record.

I pant and stare at the man on my porch in bewilderment as my brain tries to catch up to my body, which I practically hurled down the stairs.

"Isabella?" The main speaks slowly, cautiously. I look him over and finally realize who it is. Though, the patch on his uniform that says, "Forks Police", should have been a dead giveaway. He's a cop. I really must have been out of it. "Isabella Masen? Edward's wife?"

"Yes?" My heart starts beating rapidly, as if my body knows something is wrong before my brain does.

"I'm sorry, but there's been an accident."

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**I Knoooowwww... I hate cliff hangers too, but it just worked. Don't hate me.**

**Every time you read a fic chapter and don't review, a kitten dies. NO SERIOUSLY. :P Thoughts please? I really want to know what you think. **

**Thanks! **


	2. Cry

**Soo... I really am so very excited about this fic. :D I worked on this chapter for a while because I wanted it to be just right... hopefully I hit the mark. **

**I'm loving the reviews so far... so, yeah... thanks for that! You guys are awesome. :)**

**Again, I have a blog for this fic, which you can find the link to on my profile, as well as a link to the banner for this fic if you'd like to see that. **

**SM owns it all. I'm just having a bit of fun playing with her puppets – I hope that didn't sound wrong, haha. **

**Go. Read. Enjoy!**

**Song rec: "Hallelujah" by Imogen Heap**

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"_Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over... Death is not anything... death is not... It's the absence of presence, nothing more... the endless time of never coming back... a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes not sound..."_

_- _**Tom Stoppard**

Voices chat away all around me, but I'm too much in shock to make any sense of it. It's as though I'm submerged under water – everything just sounds distant and muffled. It's a faint, but steady drone of noise. My chest feels tight and constricted, or perhaps it's my clothing that feels constricting. I tug subconsciously at my sweater as my heart starts beating rapidly, like the wings of a hummingbird inside my chest. No matter how much I pull though, my sweater feels like it's just getting tighter and tighter, and I think, no… I know I am going to pass out any second if I don't get out of here. Without hesitation, I leap from the hard, plastic, waiting room chair and bolt through the emergency room doors into the pouring rain.

_He's gone. He's really gone. _

It was a logging truck that spun out of control on the slick, rain drenched street – that's what the police said. The heavy logs broke free from their restraints and tumbled over onto the car. He was crushed. When they pulled him free he was still breathing, but just barely. By the time I got to the hospital he was gone.

I sit on a bench near the doors, sucking in large breaths of air, but I can't get enough. I can't breathe. _I can't breathe. I can't breathe. _Tears fall quickly and mix with the rain on my face as I clutch at my heart. It feels as though it's being torn from my chest. I'm dying. I'm going to die. I just know it.

"Sweetie?" A tentative voice comes from the door. "Are you alright? I mean, of course you're not, but is there anything I can get you?"

I look over slowly and see that it's the kind nurse who had been in the room with me when the doctor told me Edward was gone. She had sat with me, holding my hand and rubbing my back, as I wept into the cold, stiff sheets that covered his body.

"My cell phone," I try to say, but it comes out strangled as I choke on the words. I know I need to make some calls, but just the thought of it makes me sick.

"What did you say dear?" She finally decides, I guess, that the rain isn't going to hurt her and she quickly comes to my side. "Why don't you come inside and we can talk where it's warm and dry."

I hesitate. I don't want to go back in there – in there where death lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. However, I suddenly somehow find myself following the nurse– Angela, back inside. I don't feel like myself. I'm just going through the motions, as I know I should, but I'm not there. Not me, not mentally anyway. Angela leads me into a private room. It's tiny, much smaller than the waiting room, but it's cozier. There's a small couch and two arm chairs flanking a coffee table, on which there is a vase of flowers, small pamphlets about how to cope with losing loved ones, and a binder that reads "Newton's Funeral Home" in soft blue lettering on the cover.

_Oh. Shit. _"Angela I– I don't think I can do this right now." I look at her with pleading eyes.

"Yes you can." She smiles at me softly. "I know it's hard, but it needs to be done."

"I… okay," I sigh, giving in as I slump down onto the couch. She's right. She's pushy, but she's right. She's strong. I can see it in her eyes. She must see this sort of thing everyday and she's just helping move me along. If she didn't, I might stay and mope around until I die myself, till I become nothing but a lifeless spirit, roaming the halls and mourning the loss of my husband.

I suck in a quick breath at that thought, but then quickly try to push the hurt aside for the time being. I need to just get all of the important stuff out of the way first… then I could go home and break down.

"Is there anyone I can call for you?"

"No. It's just me. Both of our parents are dead and well, neither of us really knew any of our other family members." I look up at her from the couch and shrug my shoulders. "Kind of sad isn't it?"

"Oh sweetie," she says, putting her hand on my shoulder in an effort to comfort me. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," I whisper, lowering my head. "We have some friends, of course, but I can call them tomorrow." There's really only Jasper. He was Edward's best friend in New York. We lost touch with most of our other friends when Edward's father got sick. Jasper was loyal though. He was there for Edward through it all.

"There is the accountant though," I say suddenly, realizing that I need to talk to Edward's personal accountant, Phil, to discuss paying for the funeral arrangements.

"Who?"

"His personal accountant. He looks after all of Edward's finances." I don't have access to the money Edward inherited, or any of his accounts for that matter. We had planned to open up a joint account eventually, but until then I just used money from my own account for personal items and Edward handled paying for the big things.

Angela was looking at me as if I were crazy. I suppose they didn't have personal accountants in small towns like this.

"I see," she says as she turns towards the door. "Well, I'll just give you some privacy then. Unfortunately, the phone that used to be in here broke a while back and they never got around to putting in a new one. Do you have a cell phone you can use?"

"My cell!" I exclaim, remembering that I was going to ask her for it. "I left it in the uh… in the–"

"I'll go get it for you." Angela smiles hesitantly, knowing that I'm talking about the room that he's in. Or was in. I'm not sure if they moved his body yet or not.

"Thanks," I mutter back and give her a small smile before lowering my head again.

I can't process everything while I'm still in the hospital, but I know I at least need to make the financial arrangements. If I wait until I get home to call Phil, I will never get it done. _I can do this. I can do this. _I repeat the words to myself in an effort to hold myself together long enough to just get through the call before I break down entirely.

"Here you are dear." Angela pokes her head in the door and hands me my cell.

"Thanks." I stand up and take the phone from her hands. "Is there, um, is there actually somewhere else that's quiet that I can make the call?" I'm happy that Angela brought me to this room because it's private and quiet, but it's just too small. I still feel as though I can't breathe and the small room doesn't help.

She looks confused and her eyes flick down to my phone in my hand. "Do you not get any service in here?"

"Um, well, I don't know, but that's not why I'm asking." I hesitate before going on. I'm probably just being stupid and should suck it up and make the call in here, but I feel like I'm suffocating. "I uh– It's too cramped in here. I need, I need more space."

"Oh!" Her eyes widen in understanding. "Oh yes, of course. I'm sure I can find you somewhere. Here, come stand out here in the hall and I'll be right back." She smiles and runs off down the hall, disappearing as she turns a corner.

Not a minute later she turns back around the corner and waves at me to join her. I slowly walk in her direction.

"The doctor who spoke with you earlier," she begins talking before I've fully reached her, "Dr. Cullen? You remember?"

I nod my head. How could I forget? He's the one who told me Edward was dead.

"Well, he has an office down at the end of this hallway." She puts her arm around me as I come to her side and points down the hall with her other hand, directing me where to go. "He's in there now, but there's another waiting area just outside of his office that never gets used. You can make the call there."

"Thank you, so much." I smile. She really has been so kind.

"Of course," she says, returning the smile. "It's my pleasure. If you need anything else don't hesitate to ask. I'll just be around the emergency room, but you can ask for me specifically at the emergency desk if you need me."

"Thanks," I say again before heading off down the hall.

It's quiet and no one really seems to be down this hall, but Angela had said it was okay and I trust her. I still can't help feeling like I'm really not supposed to be down this way though. Most of the doors are shut, they don't really seem like medical rooms. Maybe they are all offices. I can't really tell though.

As I near the end of the hallway, a loud voice stops me in my tracks and I freeze up, thinking they are yelling at me.

"Don't!"

I snap my head to look behind me, but see no one. As I look over to my right however, I see him. It's Dr. Cullen, but he doesn't seem to have been talking to me. His office door is cracked open just slightly and I can see him sitting at a desk, talking on the phone.

"Don't do this Jess, please. I don't have time to find a replacement." He seems really upset and I watch as the emotions on his face float between anger and defeat. A heavy sigh falls from his lips and then he looks up from his desk. His eyes immediately catch mine through the door.

"Shit," I curse under my breath and walk quickly ahead into the waiting room where Angela had told me I could make my call. I wasn't trying to spy on him, but that's probably what he thought I was doing. Instantly, my face warms and I feel really embarrassed as I rush over to the far corner of the room and sit down in one of the armchairs.

I take a few breaths to calm myself down. My heart is racing both because I got caught watching the doctor and also because of the call I am about to make. My emotions are so high right now that the last thing I need is Dr. Cullen coming in here and getting mad at me.I hadn't meant to stand there and stare, but it was nice getting caught up in someone else's troubles instead of my own, even if just for a second. At least the person he was angry with is still alive.

Another deep breath and then I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Phil's number. It's late, but it's his personal number, so he should pick up. I hope for a second though that he won't pick up, giving me a reason to put this off for another day or two. I know I can't really do that though.

"Hello?"

"Phil?"

"Yes, this is he. May I ask who's calling?"

"Bella… um, Bella Masen."

"Oh, Mrs. Masen, hello. What can I do for you?" I cringe at his use of the word Mrs. and fight back tears as they threaten to fall. He doesn't know. It's not his fault.

"It's… it's Edward. He's died." The words sound foreign as they leave my mouth. I feel like I'm playing the part of the sad and lonely woman who just lost her husband, not like I actually am her.

"Oh, my… oh, wow." He sounds just as shocked as I still feel. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," I barely manage to say before I have to snap my mouth shut to quiet the sob that rips from my chest.

The line is silent on both ends. Phil, surprised by the news, most likely doesn't know the right words to say, and I stay quiet in an attempt to pull myself together again.

"What can I do?" Phil's voice drifts meekly through the phone.

I take one final shuttering breath before I steel myself to try and make it just a couple more minutes without crying.

"I need access to his accounts."

"Oh. Right. Of course." I don't like the way he says those words and I shrink down into the armchair, afraid of what he is going to say next.

"I'm sorry Bella, but… there isn't really any money left."

I'm stunned.

"What?" I croak. This can't be true.

"It's all gone. Well, most of it anyways."

"How… how is that possible?" I can feel the tears bubbling up again. My entire body shakes and I feel as though I'm on the brink of hyperventilating.

"Mr. Masen Sr. wasted most of his money away after Esme passed and Edward has been in debt for quite some time now. He spent most of his money paying for the care of his father and the rest was spent supporting the two of you."

"I don't understand," my voice wavers as I speak. "He… he had so much money. I thought he had so much money."

"I truly am so sorry Bella. I can transfer what is left over to you, and if that isn't enough for the funeral arrangements I can help out a little – The Masens were very respected clients – but there really is nothing else I can do. I'm so sorry."

"I–" I don't know what to say. I'm speechless. I went from being so blissfully happy, to being a widow. A poor widow who can't even afford her own deceased husband's funeral.

Everything around me was tumbling down. I'm confused. So confused. I don't understand how it could all be gone. Hadn't Edward still been paying for things? The House? _Oh, god! The house! _I would be evicted. Edward hadn't paid in full. There were still monthly payments – payments I couldn't afford.

"Perhaps we can discuss this all tomorrow?" Phil's voice startles me. I almost forgot that I was still on the phone with him.

"But, but what am I going to do? I can't… I have no money. Edward paid for almost everything. Even if I can find a part time job right away, I still won't have enough saved up in time to pay for a place to live."

"Well, I know Edward paid this month for the house alre–"

"But how?" I cut him off. If he was in debt, I didn't understand how he had still been paying for things, for the house.

"Credit cards. All of which have been maxed out."

I realize suddenly why he had been looking for a job. It all made sense now – his moody behavior and his aggravation when we discussed the money situation. He didn't want me to know. He was too proud to tell me we were broke.

"Bella, I really, truly am so very sorry. I wish there was more I could do. I don't have more time to discuss this tonight, but if you call me tomorrow we can get what is left of the money sorted out."

"Okay." My voice is so small. I feel very, very small. I feel helpless.

"I'm sorry. Goodnight Bella."

The line goes dead, and then I lose it.

My body shakes violently as the reality of my situation comes crashing down on me with brutal realization. I curl my knees up to my chest and sink further and further into the chair. I push myself down so hard, wanting to just disappear, wanting to be just as lifeless as the object I am sitting on so that I can't feel anything anymore.

I sit and sob for what seems like hours. I know I probably shouldn't even be here anymore, but I can't find the will to care. I can't even imagine trying to get myself home. I just want to drift away into nothingness, right here, in this chair.

"Bella?" A voice calls, but I ignore it. _Go away. _I just want everything to go away.

I turn myself sideways in the chair, trying to emphasize the fact that I just want to be left alone. Tears still stream rapidly down my face as quiet sobs continue to wrack my small frame. I can already feel the fabric of the chair beneath my cheek growing damp from my tears, but again, I can't find it in me to care. I know I must look like a mess, but I also know that I have every right to look that way at this moment.

"Bella?" The voice calls again, only this time its much closer. I feel a light pressure on my shoulder. Someone is touching me.

I lift my head and slowly turn, looking over my shoulder to see who it is.

"Bella?" His face is pulled together with concern. _Dr. Cullen_. He must have heard me crying from his office. Or perhaps he came to find out why I had been watching him in his office.

At that last thought, I sit myself up quickly, throwing my legs back down onto the floor. I am distraught and completely drained, but I still can't help but feel embarrassment again as well. I feel as though I had been invading his privacy when he caught me watching him.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out as I wipe at the tears on my face with the sleeve of my shirt. I lower my head, staring down at the floor. I'm only sitting there for what can't be more than 3 seconds, however, before it just becomes too much, and so I bolt up from the chair and rush out of the waiting room.

~L&A~

"Bella?" Jasper's voice is soft and calming as he comes up behind me. "They're ready."

I get up from the bench and follow him slowly to the plot where Edward's casket is about to be lowered into the ground. It's just Jasper and I. I had called some other friends, even made an attempt to try and get a hold of living relatives of his, but in the end Jasper was still the only loyal one. It's sad, but after I met Edward it really had just been the two of us. Besides his father and Jasper, there was never really anyone else in the picture.

The priest smiles kindly at the two of us as we make our way over. I'm shaking from head to toe, still so shocked by everything that has happened in the past three days since Edward died. I don't want to believe what happened, but I also am not one to ever deny reality. I was facing his death as best I could, but my body and mind were still entirely drained and still in a tremendous state of shock.

Jasper puts his arm around me comfortingly and pulls me tightly against his side. There's no doubt in my mind that he can't feel the way my body is trembling, but he just pulls me even closer and rubs my arm reassuringly.

"Have you anything you'd like to say before they lower the casket?" The priest looks to Jasper and I, but we both shake our heads. I couldn't manage a single word right now without choking on my sobs, and I assume that this might be the same for Jasper. He's taken this just as hard as I have.

"I'll say a few words then." The priest goes on, but after that, I don't hear a thing. All I can focus on are the men from the funeral home as they begin to lower the casket. It's a slow and steady process, which makes it even harder to watch. It would be better if they just dropped it in quickly, but instead I stand and watch agonizingly as inch by inch they slowly lower it down. Inch by inch I can see less and less of the casket. It feels so drawn out, and I cry a little harder each time more of the casket disappears in the ground. Once it's fully lowered I can't bare to just stand there and stare any longer. I remove myself quickly from Jasper's arm and turn around, running as fast as I can back to the car.

As I sit in the silence of the car, I'm once again overcome with worry. _What am I going to do now?_ Jasper doesn't know anything about the money. I know if I tell him he will try and offer to help me out, but I can't take his money. I also can't have him worrying about me. He still has a life back in New York, one that he can't give up to stay here and help me, and there is no way I'm going back with him. I just have to figure things out myself. I can stay in the house for the rest of the month, which is only about two more weeks, but after that I won't be able to make the payments. After talking to Phil again, he informed me that Edward didn't even own the house. He was just paying rent on it to some other guy who actually owned the property. Apparently, once Edward had saved up enough money, he was going to buy the house from the guy, but until then he was only paying rent. This meant that I couldn't even sell the house. Two more weeks was all I had before I would be kicked out.

It's about ten minutes later when I finally see Jasper heading towards the car. I'm relieved because that means I can finally get out of here, but feel horrible at the same time because he may have wanted to stay longer to pay his respects. I should want to stay longer myself, but it's too much being in the cemetery right now. I just want to go home.

"Are you okay?" Jasper asks quietly as he gets in the car.

"As okay as I can be," I respond, still staring out the passenger window. I fear if I turn and look at him I might start crying again.

"Right," he says softly before starting up the car.

When we arrive back at the house I linger in the car for a few minutes, deciding whether or not I should just tell Jasper about the situation I'm in. I know if I don't tell him he will be mad if he finds out, but I would just feel terrible about placing that kind of pressure on him right now.

"I still just can't believe it," Jasper speaks up.

"I know," I whisper as I finally turn away from the window to look at him.

"Bella," he chokes, looking at me with tears in his eyes. "I just… he's gone. He's really gone."

"I know," I say again, leaning in to give him a hug. We hold each other silently for a few minutes as our bodies shake and tears fall, soaking each other's shirts.

"I hate that I have to go, but–" Jasper starts to say but I cut him off.

"Don't. Don't apologize. You have a life to get back to in New York. I understand. _He _would understand."

"I'm sorry," he says into my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze, and then pulls away.

"Thanks." I smile up at him. "It's okay, really." I almost say I'll be fine here, but I'm not sure I can keep my face straight when I say it. I won't be fine. I'm about to be homeless, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Okay," he sighs, lowering his head. "I hate to leave you here though."

"Jasper, I'll be okay," I say. I'm pretty sure my face says otherwise however, but his head is still down, so I know he wouldn't have noticed. "You should get going. You'll miss your flight, and you still have to get this rental car back."

Another heavy sigh leaves his mouth and then he raises his head back up. The look in his eyes nearly breaks me again, but I need to hold it together. If I don't, he might lose it again as well, and then he will definitely miss his flight.

"You'll call? Keep in touch?" he asks.

"Of course," I say as I get out of the car.

"I'll call as well. I'll even visit when I have the time."

I smile, holding the door open with one hand and leaning in to the car with my other hand on the head of the passenger seat. "Goodbye Jasper. Thank you."

"Goodbye Bella," he says back softly, tears pooling in his eyes again. I shut the door and quickly step away before he can see the wetness gathering in my eyes as well.

I blink several times, trying to hold the tears back and wave as he drives away. I allow a few drops to fall once he's out of sight, but I'm just so tired of crying at this point that I quickly wipe them away and head inside.

The silence that echoes through the house as I enter makes my stomach sick. My chest feels tight, even tighter than it did that night at the hospital. I have been in the house alone since that night, but now there's a feeling of finality that wasn't here before. Now that Jasper's gone and Edward has been buried, it all feels so final. It's over, done, and now is the time when I should begin to move on. However, I haven't the slightest idea how. He's gone, gone forever. I'll never see him again. Never touch his skin, or smell his hair. Never kiss his lips. Never again, and that is what I don't know how to move on from – from him. Once again I feel as though I can't breathe, or more like I shouldn't breathe. It doesn't seem right. It doesn't seem fair that I should get to continue breathing, continue living, while he gets nothing. There's nothing left for him. He's gone. Everything was unfairly ripped away from him that night of the accident. It was just an accident, but that doesn't make it seem any less unfair. I loved him so deeply. I still do. He had so much to give – so much to offer. It's cruel. Cruel, and unfair. Everyone dies eventually, I know this, but it's still a harsh reality. Even more so when it's someone you love.

As the sickness in my stomach grows I want nothing more than to just crawl under the covers in bed and stay there until someone thinks to come find me. I don't know, or even care really, who that might be, but I'm sure somebody will – probably the guy who owns the house. Of course, he won't be checking on my health, he'll be coming to kick me out.

So, I head up the stairs and into the bedroom. I rid myself of my clothing as if the garments were on fire and then I crawl into bed and throw the comforter over me entirely, tucking the edges in around me so that no traces of sunlight can leak through.

Minutes, hours, days perhaps… I'm not really sure, pass and just as I predicted, someone eventually comes knocking. The noise is obnoxious and persistent. At first I don't even realize what it is until I hear a man's voice drifting through the front door. It sounds like he's calling my name. I groan and throw the comforter dramatically off of me, with so much force in fact, that I manage to throw it off of the entire bed, hitting the lamp on the nightstand and sending it crashing to the floor.

"Damn it!" I curse, aggravated. Apparently, I have gone from the sad and shocked stage of grieving to the angry and pissed off at the world stage.

I climb out of bed and quickly throw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, not caring in the slightest bit what I look like. My breath reeks, my hair is undoubtedly a ratty mess, and my skin feels gritty from sweat that has built on my skin from having gone too long without a shower. I don't give a shit. I stomp down the stairs like a petulant child and throw the front door open.

"What the hell do you want?" is my response to the person responsible for the insistent knocking.

"I–I uh… forgive me. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Dr. Cullen?" What is he doing here?

"Yes, um, please… call me Carlisle." He fidgets and looks down, as if he is nervous about something. "Could I… I mean, would it be alright if I came in?"

I hesitate. I actually am embarrassed about my appearance now. This pristine, respectable man is standing on my doorstep and I didn't even have the decency to brush my teeth. My mind decides also to suddenly flash back to the hospital at this moment – back to him catching me staring at him as he talked on the phone. It feels as though it's been so long since that night, but the embarrassment is still fresh. It really wasn't that big of a deal. Most people would have brushed it off by now, but I just couldn't help but feel as though I had been intruding on a private conversation. That's just how I am. I may be one to speak my mind if I feel so inclined, but I also know when to stay out of others' personal affairs. They have their private lives and so do I.

"Bella?" Carlisle asks, snapping me out of my daze.

"Yes. Sorry. Come in." I pull at my shirt as he follows me inside. I know no matter how much I pull however, it's still not going to magically become clean and unwrinkled.

"I'm sorry for coming at such a terrible time. I know it's only been a couple of days since your husband passed."

"Has it?"

"Has it what?"

"Only been a couple of days?" I lead him into the kitchen and begin preparing a pot of tea. "Please, have a seat." I gesture towards the small table near the windows.

"It's, uh, it's only been 5 days Bella," he answers as he takes a seat at the table.

"Oh, hmm," I say, as if in thought. "I guess I've just lost track of time."

I turn to give him a smile, one that is forced of course. I'm hardly done grieving, but my appearance is messy enough… I don't want him to know what a mess my mental state is as well.

"Bella?" he asks, a look of deep concern in his soft blue eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Me?" I feign nonchalance. "Of course." I turn away then to pour the tea into two mugs, take a deep breath, and then turn back around with another false smile on my lips as I make my way over to the table.

Carlisle watches me carefully as I take a seat and place his mug in front of him. I don't like it. I feel like he's judging me, evaluating me. Of course, that's his job as a doctor, but right now it's not what I need. Hell, I don't know what I need, but his judgment for sure is not it. After a moment of silence, however, I guess that he decides to drop it because his face lightens as he continues to look at me. The brightness in his eyes is only there for a few seconds though, and then once again he appears fidgety and nervous.

"Carlisle, is there something you came here to speak to me about?" He grows even more anxious at my question.

"Yes, uh– yes." He picks up his mug, diverting his eyes from mine and blows on the tea before taking a tentative sip.

"Okay?" I push. "What is it?"

As he sets the mug back down, he releases a huge breath that I hadn't even realized he had been holding.

"I have something to ask you," he says, trying to remain calm, but I can tell he's still a bit tense. "I uh–well you see, I..."

"Carlisle, please," I sigh. My emotions and patience on edge enough as it is. I just want him to spit it out already.

"Yes, sorry," he says softly, forcing a smile – just as I had done. He looks down in his lap and fidgets a bit more with his hands before he raises his eyes back to mine with a striking confidence in them that has me a bit taken back.

"I want you to come live with me."

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**WHAT? WHAT? HE WANTS WHAT? Haha... oh Carlisle. So? Thoughts? I know it's kind of another cliff hanger there at the end... I'm sorry if I'm torturing you :P Actually... no I'm not. Hahaha. I'm evil. Not really. Well, maybe sometimes. I'm actually quite nice. :D**


	3. This Is Life

**Sooo... yeah, I had this chapter done days ago, but thanks to FFn's EPIC FAIL I was not able to update. The only reason I am able to update now is all in thanks to A Different Forest. They provided a post with a way around this whole FFn update debacle. So THANK YOU ADF! For reals! :D **

**I am loving every minute that I write this fic and am so excited to give you guys more and more with each chapter. I am a HUGE B/C fan. So I get giddy every time I get to sit down and write for this fic. **

**I really hope you guys enjoy this chap... and as usual, I do not own anything Twilight related. I simply own this plot. I also own the images of Carlisle doing naughty naughty things in my head. :P But that's it. ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**Song Rec: "This Is Life" by Josh Bray (I am still trying to find a video for this song to post on the L&A blog, but Josh Bray is a brand new artist, so it's really hard to find his songs on youtube. If you want to listen to the whole thing you will probably have to just buy it on itunes... which I highly recommend anyways b/c the guy is fabulous... and gorgeous too ;D)**

* * *

"_Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing." _

– **Ralph Waldo Emerson**

"Excuse me?" I can't have heard him correctly.

"I would like it if you came to live with me."

Nope, I was wrong. That is what he said. Okay, so I'm not delusional. That's good, but… what the fuck? _He's _the delusional one!

"You're joking right?" I glare at him as I wait for his response.

"I… well, no. No, I'm not joking." His confidence falters as he once again begins to fidget with his hands.

"I'm sorry, Carlisle, but I don't understand. What the hell are you getting at?" I rise up from the table and grab both of our mugs to rinse them out in the sink. He wasn't finished with his yet, but I don't give a shit. I need something to do with my hands; otherwise I might chuck something at him for being so forward.

Where does he get off having the audacity to ask me something like that? I'm pissed. Edward just… died, and Dr. Hotshot is over here putting the moves on me. I can't believe I ever felt embarrassed about spying on him. I don't feel sorry anymore. Now I just despise him.

"I'm waiting," I huff as I scrub the mugs clean. I'm turned away from him, but I just know he's probably still sitting at the table, fidgeting. I don't know why though. Someone who has the balls to ask a girl a question like that, right after her husband dies, sure doesn't seem like the kind of person who fidgets.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he sighs, and then I hear the chair scraping across the floor as he pushes away from the table. "I am just trying to help… and well, I need your help too."

That gets me to stop what I'm doing. I shut off the water and turn to look at him. He's just standing there next to the table, looking like he doesn't know what to do with himself. Once again, I ponder how someone with so much confidence in his words and his profession can appear so uncomfortable.

"What? You need _my_ help?"

"Yes."

"How? I mean, why? I don't understand Carlisle. Why would you ask me to move in with you after… after–" I can't finish the sentence. I start getting choked up. _Damn it. _No more tears. I can't possibly cry anymore.

I'm wrong. A sob breaks loose and a few tears fall down my face. I turn away and place my hands on the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself. My body is so worn out from crying and not eating properly the past couple of days. I'm not tired. I slept almost two days straight, but I'm weak, and now I'm upset again. It's too much for my body to handle, so once again I'm crying and my legs are shaking and I feel like I might pass out. Then my legs buckle.

"Bella!" Carlisle is at my side instantly. One arm snakes around my back and the other holds my right arm around his shoulder. He supports me into the living room and sits me down on the couch. Then he runs out of the room and is back in seconds with a glass of orange juice in his hands.

"Here," he says, handing me the glass as he sits down beside me on the couch.

I'm not crying anymore, but my legs and arms are still shaking. The glass feels like a 10-pound weight in my hand, but I somehow manage to take a few sips before setting it down on the coffee table.

"You should eat something too," Carlisle speaks softly as he watches my shaking hands fidget and pull at my shirt. _Ha, now I'm the one fidgeting._ "I bet you haven't eaten in days have you?"

I shake my head silently.

"Bella," his voice is hesitant as he reaches his hands over and places them on mine. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, and I know how tired you must be of hearing those words, but I want you to know that I mean them and my intentions are honest. I don't want to upset you."

I throw him an accusing glare at those words.

"Right," he says, pulling back. "I've already upset you. I'm sor–"

"Don't!" I cut him off. "Don't say you're sorry again. I get it."

"Okay." His head falls and he sighs as he leans back against the couch.

He looks defeated. Worn down. I hadn't noticed before, too caught up in my own misery, but now I can see. He looks just as beat as I do. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are cracked and dry at the corners like he's dehydrated.

He sighs again and drags his hand down over his hair and face.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come."

Something in me jerks at the sight of him now. He's in a bad place too, just like me, and something inside me wants to help him.

"What is it Carlisle? What's wrong?"

"I just… I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so tired. I'm so lost. She needs someone who can be there for her, to help her and talk to her, but I just can't always be that person."

What? Who?

"Carlisle I don't know wh–"

"My daughter, Leah," he says, knowing what I was going to ask. "She's 12 years old and she just… she's at that age where she really needs a mother figure in her life. My wife past away two years ago, and I've just been so lost ever since, but now it's even worse. There are things Leah wants to do and talk about and I don't know how to be there for her. Plus, they've just made me head of Cardio at the hospital and… I just don't have time anymore. I feel like I never have time to do anything with her. She needs someone there for her and every minute I get to spend with her I take, but that means passing up on eating and sleeping. I grab nutrition bars when I can, but I don't have time to cook. I don't have time to sleep. Her old nanny, Jessica, she just quite on me, so now Leah is being tossed around like a rag doll among her friends' parents, but I can't keep doing that to her."

He pauses then, finally, to take a breath. I don't know what to say.

"I'm sorry." It's all I can think of. Shit, he has it rough.

Edward just died, yes, but he didn't leave me with a teenager to care for. I can't imagine what it must be like for Carlisle, and his wife didn't pass away that long ago either. Two years. I'm sure I would still miss Edward after two years. I will always miss Edward.

"I know this is the worst time for me to dump this on you," Carlisle says, shaking his head as he leans forward placing his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees.

"It's… no, it's okay," I say placing my hand on one of his arms.

He turns his hand to look at me then.

"I overheard you on the phone that night in the hospital."

He what? And here I had felt bad for listening in on his conversation. He did the same thing.

"Oh," I say, removing my hand from his arm as I sit back.

"I know you don't have any money, and I know it's not really my place to be saying any of this, but," he sits up and turns towards me, taking my hands in his, "I know what you're going through and I want to help. I also need your help too – with Leah. We can help each other."

Again, I don't know what to say. I just stare. I stare into his deep blue eyes staring back at me. We both sit silently and stare.

"So, you want me to move in with you, to help you with Leah?" I finally ask, to clarify. "And because you want to help me since I have no money?"

He nods. "Yes."

"God, I'm like a charity case." The words are more for myself than for Carlisle. I've just lost my husband, I have no money, and am soon about to have no home. Yes, I feel like a damn sad charity case.

"Bella, that's not… I don't mean to make you feel that way. I just–"

"I know." I shift away from him and mimic the same position he had been in moments ago. Head in hands, elbows on knees, as I stare out at… well, nothing really. I just stare. "We're both pretty fucked aren't we?"

He laughs beside me and then mirrors my position. Now we both just stare, head in hands, elbows on knees.

"I'd pay you, of course," he speaks up after we are both silent for a few minutes. "And you could move back out if you'd like, once you have the money. I'd still like it if you continued to help look after Leah though, like her nanny. Unless of course, you want to leave Forks when you have the money. I would understand."

There's another silence between us as I mull over what's he's just said – over _everything_ he's said.

Could I do it? Could I move in and be her nanny? Help Carlisle out? On one side of things, I want to prove that I don't need anyone's help, that I can survive on my own. On the other side of things, I know I need Carlisle's help just as much as he needs mine. I will be out on the streets in a couple of weeks if I don't take him up on his offer. No part-time job in the world could get me enough money in time to afford my own place to live. It is quite a generous offer he is giving me.

Carlisle shifts next to me and leans against the back of the couch. I'm still staring straight ahead, but I can feel his eyes on me. He's anxious, waiting for me to say something, anything.

Time to grow up Bella. You can't sulk around this house forever.

"So," I say, turning to look at him. "When do I move in?"

**~L&A~**

"What?" Leah paces back and forth, hands on her hips like an irate little grown up.

It's kind of cute, and I try to hold back my smile for fear of upsetting her more. "What? I mean… you've got to be joking, right?"

Truth is, I actually feel kind of awkward and out of place standing here with my bags in my hands. It is her home after all. I'm the stranger moving in. I can just tell already that she has Carlisle wrapped around her perfect little fingers though, and again I try to suppress a smile at that thought. It's amusing watching Carlisle try to appease her.

"Leah, honey, please understand." Carlisle reaches for her, but she is too quick and side steps him, avoiding his touch.

"No! Oh my god, no!" She crosses her arms over her chest. "This isn't fair! I hated Jess and I'll probably hate her too!" She nods in my direction.

"Leah Esmerelda Cullen! Manners, young lady!" Carlisle looks sternly at his daughter. For the first time I can see anger in his eyes, but he barely holds the look before his face melts into guilt once again. He feels bad, really bad. I can tell. He doesn't enjoy upsetting her. Like I said… wrapped around her finger.

"I– ugh, I'm sorry!" She yells, throwing up her hands dramatically. "But dad this isn't fair! I'm 12! I'm not a child anymore. I don't need a babysitter."

"Yes you do," he counters. "You may not be a little kid anymore, but you also are not an adult yet, as much as you'd like to think you are. I cannot have you bouncing around from one friend's parents to the next. You need a stable living situation and Bella can provide that."

"But da–"

"No! End of discussion!" Carlisle cuts her off, holding his hand up in the air to emphasize his point. "Now, up to your room to finish your homework. I will have dinner ready soon."

"Wooww," she bellows sarcastically and then huffs and puffs as she stomps up the stairs. "You're actually cooking tonight, what a shocker!"

Carlisle's head snaps back towards her, his mouth opening as if he wants to say something, but then he just turns back around, shaking is head.

"I'm sorry," he looks up at me apologizing. "She's actually a very mature and sweet young girl."

"She's just upset," I say with a small smile, shrugging. I raise my bags up then in question. "So, where to with these babies?"

I still feel kind of awkward and out of place, I'm exhausted because I haven't slept since he asked me to move in with him, and I am still grieving over the loss of Edward. So, all I really want to do is just go to which ever room has been deemed mine and take a long hot shower before crashing for the night.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Carlisle instantly reaches to take my things. I'd normally protest, but I'm so worn out that I don't mind handing my bags over. "This way," he says, leading me up the stairs.

I follow silently, taking in everything around me. His house is huge, but cozy and inviting. Not like some of those houses that are so big and open that they feel cold and pretentious with their grandiosity. Those places are nothing like this. His house is impeccably decorated, but modestly so. Everything is tied together perfectly, but more so in an eclectic way, than in a Martha Stuart, too coordinated, matchy-matchy way. There are mixtures of different colors, patterns, and types of furniture, but it all works. There are also interesting antique knick knacks sitting around all over the place and beautiful art pieces adorn the walls, and the books… I have seen about a dozen bookshelves since I entered the house. I'm in heaven.

"You like it?" Carlisle looks at me over his shoulder with his brow quirked.

"Yes." I smile. "Your home is beautiful Carlisle."

"It was Esme, my wife's doing," he says, smiling widely, before turning around to continue leading the way.

"I'm sorry," I utter softly. He still misses her a lot. I have seen it in his eyes. His smiles may find purchase on his lips, but they don't always reach his eyes.

"Thanks," he responds, keeping his face forward. "It's hard, but I've gotten past it. I still love her of course, I always will, and I miss her every day, but I don't long for her any more."

_Wow. _"I can't imagine saying those things about Edward," I sigh, but deep down, I know that I too will eventually have to move on. I can't yet though. _I do_ still long for him. Every night. I still crave his touch, and when I wake in the night reaching for him, it makes it seem impossible – like I will never get over it.

"I understand. I was in your shoes once." He stops and puts my bags down, turning around to face me. "I'm not trying to downplay how you are feeling. I would never, but I just... I just want you to know that I can relate, and that I am here for you if you need to ever talk about it."

"Thanks," I say, smiling.

He's so kind. I didn't think he was downplaying my feelings, but the fact that he felt the need to clarify is sweet. He really is a genuinely compassionate man. He'd never purposely hurt someone. His gentle blue eyes are like windows into his kind soul – cheesy as that sounds… it's the truth. Hey, I'm an artist! We have cheesy, melodramatic, deep-seated thoughts… it's how we get inspiration for our work. So sue me!

He just smiles back, and I swear I see a hint of a tear in his eye, but it could just be the soft lighting. Everything in this dimly lit hallway seems a bit hazy, or maybe it's just my overactive, exhausted imagination. Yup, that's probably it.

"So, is this me?" I ask, gesturing at the door we've stopped in front of.

"What?" He looks confused, a bit dazed, like he wasn't paying attention. His thoughts probably far away like mine usually are.

"Is this my room?" I say slowly, nodding at the door again.

"Oh! Right." Light bulb. "Yeah," he laughs. "Sorry, yes, this is you." He opens the door and picks my bags back up, leading me inside.

"Holy shit!" I blurt. "Eh, I mean… ummm, wow. Carlisle, this is… this is too much."

The house in general is beautiful, but this room, is beyond words. It's gorgeous. Stunning. Perfect. Soft brown walls, warm, rich accent colors in the furnishings, drapery, and bedding, more beautiful art pieces, THREE bookshelves, an incredible sound system – _is that a record player?_ – a lounge area, a walk out balcony, and my own bathroom. I could only see just inside the door, but I could imagine it was one hell of a bathroom suite.

"This is the master suite," he smiles awkwardly. "I hope you don't mind. I just don't spend much time up here; so, I think it'd be a shame to let it go to waste. This was Esme's favorite room."

Oh, well that makes me feel better. This was his wife's favorite room. Right, and he says he's over her death. So, now I have to sleep here?

"It's not… I know what you're thinking," he says quickly. "I love this room too. I have slept in here many a time since she passed, but I really am just not home that often, and when I am home I spend a lot of my time either with Leah or in my office in the basement. So, that's where I sleep."

"What? You sleep in your office?" Now I really feel bad about having this room. "Carlisle, I don't feel right sleeping here while you sleep on… what? A couch in your office?"

"No. I have a small daybed in there. It's actually quite comfy."

"That's…still, that's ridiculous. I can't –"

"Please," he implores, placing his hand over his chest. "I wouldn't have it any other way. You deserve this room… after everything you've been through. You deserve a place you can retreat to when you aren't with Leah."

Well… when put that way. The room is quite appealing. It still feels wrong though. I'm not really in the mood to stand here and argue with him about it, however, and hopefully I will be making enough money soon so that I can find my own place anyway.

"Okay, okay," I say, giving in as I raise my hands in defeat. "You win," I smile. "I'll stay in this room, but only because you insist."

He returns the smile, albeit a bit more deviously. "Ha, you were too easy. I'm surprised. I expected more of a fight from you."

Oh, so now he's Dr. Funny.

"Easy? Ha, hardly. I'm just tired, that's all." I smirk and pick up my bags, taking them over to the bed. "Now, if you don't mind doc, I need to get some rest. I'm beat."

"Yes, yes. Of course." He's still smiling. "I'll leave you to it."

He turns around and is just about out the door, but then he stops and turns back around.

"Oh, I forgot… uh, the rest of your things – what would you, um, what would you like to do with them?"

"Oh, uhh…" I almost completely forgot about the rest of the stuff that is still over at the other house. I still have three days to get it all out.

"Your art things we can move in here, of course, but I'm not quite sure there is room for everything else; at least not the furniture anyways. I'm sorry–"

"It's okay," I cut him off. I figured I would only be able to bring over the small stuff and my easel, and other art things. "I guess, um, I guess I can just put it all in storage until I figure out what to do with it all. I mean there wasn't much, but I don't know if I could just sell it or give it away just yet."

"Right, well I'll just make arrangements to have it moved to a storage unit in town then and whatever you want brought here I will have brought over tomorrow afternoon."

"Sounds good. Thanks."

"I won't be home tomorrow at all during the day unfortunately. Will you be alright by yourself? I mean, Leah will be home all day with you, it's a Saturday, but do you think you can manage your first whole day alone with her and get the stuff brought in okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I wave my hand as if it were no big deal. "I'll be fine. Thanks." In truth, I am actually a bit nervous to be with Leah all day, but it was going to happen sooner or later, so better sooner than later.

"Okay, but… are you, are you sure? I could get off wor–"

"Carlisle, really, I'll be okay," I interrupt. "I'm a big girl. I can handle it. Really, I'm grateful for everything you have given me. So, thanks, and don't worry."

"Okay then." He smiles. "Well, I'll just go start dinner then. I know you are probably tired and just want to go to bed, but I really think you should eat something."

"I'm not–"

"No, no. I insist." He raises his hand to stop what I was about to say. It is slightly annoying. Didn't I just say I was a big girl? I'm not his daughter. "At least just let me bring you up a plate. If you don't eat it then fine, but at least I will have tried."

He is so a doctor – trying to nurse me back to health. I guess I can't blame him for trying to take care of me. It's in his nature.

"Alright, but I'm not promising I'll still be awake when you bring it up."

"That's okay. Maybe you'll wake in the night and want some." He turns then and begins walking out the door.

"Thank you, again," I call after him. I really am so thankful for what he is doing for me. I want him to know that. Even if I may seem unthankful sometimes, only because I am still grieving, I want him to know I will never forget his kind offer.

"Your welcome, Bella." He smiles over his shoulder and then disappears into the hallway.

I flop down on the bed once he is out of sight. My body instantly relaxes, but my mind is still a jumbled, tense mess.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

_

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_**? I am really interested in what you are thinking. So purtty please, let me know. :D What do you think of Leah? She may seem a bit like a brat right now, but you've got to understand her situation. **


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